


Idée Fixe

by ineswrites



Series: Kryptonite [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Cigarette Burning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masochism, Toxic Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 10:15:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13785342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineswrites/pseuds/ineswrites
Summary: Not everyone responds to the training that way, but Jack did. He begs to be hurt whenever something’s wrong. It can be the smallest thing, and usually whatever Brock gives him is enough. But now Jack can’t find peace and this is how Brock knows he’s not a natural masochist, that there’s something entirely else he needs.





	Idée Fixe

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Идея фикс](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13879392) by [Saysly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saysly/pseuds/Saysly)



Brock leans against the windowsill and grabs a pack lying there. He pulls out a cigarette, puts it between his teeth and lights it up. His eyes land on Jack, lying in bed on his stomach, with his face buried in a pillow, the long red welts across his thighs and ass standing out against the pale skin. Brock takes a long drag and opens a window before blowing the smoke out into the night.

Jack shivers as a wave of cold air raises goosebumps on his skin. He pulls himself up to a sitting position and Brock stills at the sight of this haunted look on his face. He tried to get Jack out of his head with a long session of really rough sex, but apparently it only worked for a short while, and he’s again drowning in doubts and… whatever it is he’s feeling.

Brock huffs out smoke in a sigh. That was to be expected. Every Hydra sleeper agent goes through that. They do the training, then spend a couple of years lying to everyone they know and being sent on problematic missions. They get used to it, start thinking they’ve seen it all and it’ll only get easier as the time passes.

Getting introduced to the Winter Soldier is always a blow, but everyone reacts differently. Some couldn’t take it, tried to run, or had a change of heart. They’re biting the dirt now. For Brock, it was a shocking discovery, but once he got over his initial astonishment, he found the concept of a brainwashed superhuman serving them titillating.

It’s hard to tell how Jack feels about the whole thing, but it’s apparent this newly gained knowledge haunts him. His hands tremble as he brushes his hair back, and his lip bleeds from worrying it too much. He pulls it between his teeth and sucks the blood off. Brock just had an orgasm, but the view is enough for his cock to stir. He shakes his head; he’s always been too easily distracted.

He should have killed Jack two years ago when he had a chance. He wouldn’t be wondering now if the Winter Soldier is disturbing enough for Jack to betray them. He glances at the spot where he keeps a gun strapped underneath the bed. Jack doesn’t know about it. Brock could jump to it and pull it out in two seconds; Jack would have it in his face before he even realized what was happening.

Brock takes another drag. He could kill Jack. He doesn’t want to; he doesn’t like all the mess it involves, but he could. If he absolutely had to. He puts the cigarette out the window, taps it with his thumb and watches the ash fall.

When he looks back inside, Jack’s eyes are on him. He outstretches his hand and Brock takes a step to hand him the cigarette. Jack closes his eyes as he inhales, and for a second, he looks calm. He hands the cigarette back, and when he opens his eyes, there’s this lost look again.

“Hurt me,” he asks quietly, smoke flowing out his lips.

Brock sits down beside him, takes the cigarette in one hand and Jack’s arm in the other. He thumbs an older circular burn close to his elbow pit, the skin around it still reddened. Jack doesn’t protest, doesn’t suggest a different place, where the skin’s untouched, so Brock pushes the cigarette right into the burn. Jack shuts his eyes and a hoarse groan draws itself from the back of his throat.

Brock understands the appeal. It used to be him, relying on pain whenever his head got too busy. It filled his mind with something else to focus on and quieted it for a long time after, but never long enough. Seeking pain wasn’t a natural coping mechanism for him; he was conditioned with the Hydra training and it took years to figure out that it isn’t taking pain as much as inflicting it that does it for him.

Not everyone responds to the training the same way, but Jack did. He begs to be hurt whenever something’s wrong. It can be the smallest thing, and usually whatever Brock gives him is enough. But now Jack can’t find peace and this is how Brock knows he’s not a natural masochist either, that there’s something entirely else he needs.

The burn is black and circled with ash when Brock takes the cigarette away. He gets up to throw it out the window; the tip still smolders as it falls, an orange dot glowing in the dark.

Jack blows the ashes off his forearm and starts circling the burn with his fingertip. He looks focused solely on that and Brock thinks that they’re finally done. Time to kick Jack out and get ready for bed. He groans internally when he remembers he has to change the sheets because they’re stained with Jack’s come and surely still wet. Why does sex have to be so messy?

Brock closes the window and is about to leave the bedroom to let Jack know he’s no longer welcome when he notices Jack has stilled and there’s a crease forming between his eyebrows. Brock kicks a nightstand in frustration, but there’s no heat in his voice when he utters a curse. Jack jerks and shoots him a wary look, undoubtedly thinking whatever made Brock angry is his fault. Well, it is.

Brock doesn’t know what he’s doing when he sits down beside Jack again, doesn’t understand his actions when he presses Jack’s head to his shoulder. Jack tenses up and holds his breath, and Brock doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to fix Jack’s head for him, and why is this even his problem. Jack’s a grown ass man, he should be able to deal with his issues himself. Except that if Jack decides the way to deal is to betray Hydra, then Brock’s fucked.

Jack sags against him, all the tension seeping out of his muscles. A warm breath blows over Brock’s neck as Jack nuzzles it. His arm comes up to wrap itself around Brock’s midsection.

And maybe that’s it, Brock thinks as he strokes Jack’s head, maybe this is what he needed in the first place. Whatever this is.

Still unsure where he’s going with this exactly, Brock pulls Jack down with him and they lie on the bed, facing each other. Jack carefully arranges his burned arm between them. His focus is on Brock now rather than whatever’s going on in his head. His eyes crawl over his face, lingering on his lips, and he brings his hand up to Brock’s cheek before he leans down.

Brock stills when Jack’s lips touch his. That’s not something they do. Sure, they drunkenly made out a few times, but it always led to sex, so it doesn’t count. What Jack’s doing now is far from sexual. It’s almost chaste, the way he peppers Brock’s lower lip with small pecks, like brushes of butterfly wings.

Brock’s not thrilled, but he lets it happen. Jack evidently needs this, and if that ensures Hydra’s safety… Worse things have happened to him.

Jack stops and buries his face in the crook of Brock’s neck, where he eventually drifts off. Brock carefully untangles himself from his embrace and gets up.

Nobody’s ever stayed the night at his place before. He needs his space, and he’s unable to fall asleep with someone else in the same bed, so he usually kicks his boy toys out after everything’s over. But this way he can keep an eye on Jack, make sure he doesn’t think about betraying Hydra the next day, and sleeping on the couch isn’t so bad, he supposes.

He turns off the corner lamp and quietly leaves the bedroom.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm determined to give this series a happy ending.


End file.
